


The Thaw

by Halbeary



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Extreme Barry Whump, M/M, my poor son why do I hurt u so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halbeary/pseuds/Halbeary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where a routine mission goes horribly wrong, and Barry is very, very cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> **DANG!!** I started this fic on my tumblr a billion years ago ( _like 5? 6 months_ ) when I first started writing Halbarry and kind of lost motivation to finish it, and then by the time I went _back_ to finally finish it my writing style had changed so drastically that I had to re-write a ton of the fic. ANYWAYS!! HERE IT IS!! ( _finally.. don't hurt me pls.._ ) I hope you like it!

     He has about a nanosecond to anticipate the impact before his back collides with the concrete wall, air _whooshing_ from his lungs as his spine absorbs the friction, pain radiating to every nerve in his body. _Shit — ow._

     His earpiece crackles to life in an instant — “ _You ok?_ ”

     Barry takes a moment to mentally assess his condition before determining — yup, he’s gonna be _bruised as hell_ later. He rolls his shoulders once, hissing in pain as he forces himself to his feet. A shaking hand reaches for his earpiece, flicking a hidden button to switch to open mic mode.

     “I’m fine.” He darts up the side of a building to his right to gain a better vantage point, grimacing as he observes columns of smoke rising from the middle of the city square. There’s a huge flare of red light four blocks over, followed by a familiar _thrum_ in his earpiece as he hears Hal create another construct.

     “GL, we need to move this out of the city. These people can’t afford to rebuild their homes.”

     He hears Hal grunt in exertion, followed by a huge explosion in the distance that makes the rooftop he’s perching on shake.

     “Yeah I hear you, just give me a—” he sees Hal dart into the air, a massive green fighter jet materializing behind him as he launches it towards the ground with deadly precision “—second. _God_ , this guy is angry. And _ugly_.”

     Barry sprints down the side of the building, dodging through an alley and entering the main street. They had gotten the ping on their radar this morning, some new mystery menace terrorizing a small mining town in the Byrranga mountains of northern Russia. Hal had volunteered, Barry offering to tag along partially to keep an eye on his best friend, and partially to escape monitor duty — there was only so much sitting in front a huge screen he could take before he went _insane_.

     He zags around a pile of crates, emerging on the street under Hal’s location. He spies their _mystery menace_ a block ahead of him, arms pointed in Hal’s direction as a huge amount of red energy coalesces between his hands. _Shit._

     He taps into the speedforce, world slowing to a halt as he sprints up the building to his right, using the momentum to grab Hal out of the air in an instant, helicoptering his body to absorb some of the impact as he lands on the neighboring building’s rooftop. He doesn’t hesitate as he envelops Hal in his friction aura, bolting down the side of the building and onto the main street at light speed, finally slipping back into relative time just as the red beam of energy _whirrs_ through the spot where Hal was floating a moment ago.

     He sets Hal down as the pilot blinks disorientedly, hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. It’s so _cold_ here — he’s not as fast as he should be, the below zero temperature slowing down his molecular movement and making him sloppy. His back throbs at that last thought, as if in agreement with his assessment.

     He glances down the street in the direction of the enraged bald metahuman ( _seriously, why are they always bald?_ ) before grabbing Hal and zipping them into the nearest alley. He pokes his head around the corner, eyes scanning the surrounding buildings for any sign of red energy as he tries to get his breathing under control.

     He hears Hal let out a little groan and flicks his eyes to the pilot, watching him as he pokes at a bloody spot on his arm. Something unpleasant clenches in his stomach and he darts to Hal’s side, grabbing the pilot’s arm and gently tugging him towards him to inspect his injury as he talks, teeth chattering from how _goddamn cold_ it is.

     “We need a p-plan to draw him away from the city. These people don’t have m-much — I don’t think they could take much more structural damage.”

     Hal bats Barry’s hand away with exasperated _huff_ , running a hand through his hair in irritation. “Ring, power level check.”

     A robotic voice echoes around the alleyway. “ _POWER LEVELS AT 12 PERCENT._ ”

     Hal drags his hand down to rub at his eyes, shoulders slumping in exhaustion as he leans heavily against the brick wall.

     “The red energy he’s emitting is doing something to my ring — draining its power _way_ faster than it should be. It’s like he’s _absorbing_ the energy I’m pelting him with.” His eyes harden with resolve as he shoves himself off the wall. “I got about one good shot left, maybe two — unless you want to run to Coast City for my power battery.”

     The whole alley shakes as an explosion erupts on the street to their left, a small house vaporizing in a cloud of debris. Barry’s head shoots up in surprise, sprinting to Hal and tugging him around the corner so that they’re out of sight.

     He closes his eyes briefly in exhaustion, blood pulsing in his temple as he tries to think around the massive headache forming. “There’s _n_ - _no time_. It’s the cold, it’s s-slowing down my speed.” He shivers as he rolls his shoulders back, mouth forming in a small smile as he turns his gaze towards Hal. “Think you can piss him off enough to f-follow you? If we clear the mountain range to the north we should be far enough away from anything to prevent collateral d-damage. You can shield me as I run in and knock him out — that way he– he can’t absorb any of your r-ring’s energy.”

     Hal smirks back at him, ring flaring to life as he lifts off the ground.

     “You know me, Flash—” he floats off in the direction of the main street “— I’m irresistible _._ ”

     Barry snorts, shaking his head in an attempt to wake up and vibrating his body to try to stay warm before he hears Hal in his earpiece — “... _You pop outta your mother that way bud? Cause she must have been one ugly bit–_ ”

     The answering inhuman roar is the only confirmation Barry needs as he darts towards the North, putting out a small fire on the way as he runs past the town population sign ( _86– really?_ ) and out into the desolate landscape. He darts up and over a small glacier, taking a moment to appreciate the traction modifications Bats insisted on installing on his boots.

     He pushes himself to go faster, glancing behind him to make sure Hal made it out. He sees the glowing pilot about two miles behind him, and an answering red blur closing in on them fast. Barry rolls his eyes — a little _too_ irresistible _._

     He reaches the bottom of the mountain and starts the climb, darting around the sparse clumps of spruce trees as he scouts for the best place to make their stand. Blue eyes spot the entrance to a narrow pass between the mountains and he skids to a halt, air freezing in front of him as he sucks in labored breaths. He reaches up to tap his earpiece.

     “GL, I’m about five miles north of your location — shield me as soon as you get here. I’m gonna charge him.”

     “ _Copy that!_ ” He hears a loud _whooshing_ in his earpiece as he spies Hal in the distance, barrel rolling to narrowly avoid another beam of red energy.

     The snow falling around him stills, wind slowing to a halt as he drops into his runner’s stance, slipping into the speedforce and letting the kinetic energy build as he vibrates in anticipation. He only has enough in him for one more sprint — he has to make it count.

     “ _Coming in hot, be there in 3– 2– Go, Flash!”_

     Hal flies past him at supersonic speeds, ring flaring to life as he coats Barry’s entire suit in a bright green glow that envelops him like a warm blanket, heat flowing through him as his molecules vibrate at their proper speeds for the first time in hours. Lightning flashes in his eyes as he pushes off the ground, snow billowing behind him as he sprints towards the pulsing metahuman. The air distorts behind him as he breaches the sound barrier, pine needles tearing off the trees as he blows past them, going faster — he needs to go _faster —_

     The metahuman finally notices his approach, stopping to begin to channel his energy but Barry is too fast, throwing his whole body into the man’s face before he can even react, the green shield around him shattering as it comes into contact with the red energy.

     Barry skids to a halt, feet sinking into the now slushy ice around him as he collapses to his knees, breath coming hard. Pain radiates from the shoulder that had taken most of the blow. Hal’s shield had helped, but there was only so much impact to absorb when you hit something at supersonic speeds — any faster and he might have torn off his arm entirely.

     He turns his head to make sure the bald menace is down, spying his prone body embedded into the ice. _Man_ , that guy has a hard head.

     Hal touches down behind him, reaching down to pull Barry out of the ice. He tugs on Barry’s injured arm and the speedster hisses in pain. Hal frowns, eyebrows pinching in concern.

     “You alright?”

     Barry winces as he cradles his arm against his body. He was going to run straight back to Central City and not move for at least a _week,_ maybe more. The cold starts to seep into him again and he shivers, body already missing the comforting warmth of Hal’s shield.

     “I’m OK. Probably not going to be able to move my arm for a few hours but otherwise _— peachy_.”

     Hal snorts at his nonchalance — like knocking a guy out at mach 2 was just a casual, everyday activity. Barry watches with tired eyes as Hal moves towards the guy’s body to make sure he’s still breathing. He closes his eyes, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. There was still the run back to think of — or maybe Hal could fly them.. his feet feel like they’re about to fall right off—

     “Uhh, Bar? Is he supposed to be doing that?”

     Barry snaps his eyes open, head turning to stare at the metahuman on the ground. A faint red glow is emitting from his body, steadily growing brighter as the snow around him begins to sizzle and melt. Hal backs away quickly with a curse, barking at his ring to check its power levels.

     “ _POWER LEVELS AT 2 PERCENT._ ”

     Hal starts towards him with a rare panicked expression on his face. “Bar, we have to get out of here. This guy’s about to go nuclear and my ring is almost out of juice. Can you run?”

     Barry pulls himself to his feet with a great effort, adrenaline pumping through him as he darts to where Hal’s standing.

     “Hold on tight.”

     He grabs Hal and arranges him on his back in an instant before sprinting towards the ocean on shaking legs, exhaustion pulling at his limbs as his shoulder throbs in pain. Sweat pours off his forehead as he dodges around the spruce trees, face stinging where it meets stray branches. He spies the edge of the forest, ocean almost in sight, when he feels the air vibrate sickeningly, high pitched whine cutting through his headset before the entire world _explodes_ behind him.

     He feels the familiar warmth of Hal’s will wash over him as the blast throws him into a nearby tree, pain exploding in his thigh as the world goes dark.

\------------------------ 

     Hal jerks awake from unconsciousness, head throbbing in protest as he blinks his eyes open. He waits for his eyes to focus, taking in the green blur above him.. _Oa_? He blinks a few more times, eyes finally clearing up — ah, _no_ , definitely Earth. Some kind of forest.. _where_?

     It comes rushing back to him in an instant– the pissed off metahuman, the explosion, _Barry_.

     He pushes himself out of the snow, eyes darting around frantically. He had thrown up a shield but his ring was low on power, almost completely dead. He doesn’t know if it _worked_ , he has to find him—

     A flash of red catches his attention and he bolts for it, head swimming dangerously as he stumbles forward, catching himself on a low-hanging branch. He pushes through the nauseous feeling in his stomach as the world spins around him, making his way to the red blob before he freezes, breath catching painfully in his throat as his hand comes to cover his mouth in horror. _Oh god, no– no no no—_

     Barry’s body is slumped against the bottom of a tree, skin deathly pale, dark circles under his closed eyes. Bright red blood stains the snow around him, bits of splintered bark scattered over the ground from where the speedster impacted the tree. _He’s dead_ — _oh god_ , _he’s **dead**_ , _he failed —_

     Hal’s knees give out and he drops to the ground with a sickening _squelch_ , jeans immediately staining with blood. He reaches a shaking hand towards his friend— his _**best** friend– more than that, if he’s being honest with himself and oh god, he never even told him, he was too much of a goddamn coward _ — voice cracking painfully as he calls out.

     “ _Barry_. Oh god, _Bar_.”

     He touches his hand to Barry’s cheek, jumping when the speedster turns his head into the touch with a quiet groan.

     “Barry!”

     Hal’s heart is beating out of his chest, relief washing over him in a warm wave— he’s _alive_. He moves his hand to Barry’s forehead, gently pushing the damp blond strands back as his other hand reaches for Barry’s wrist, checking his pulse. He focuses on the quiet, ragged breathing coming from the speedster as he counts the beats per minute — under 40. _Definitely_ way too low for a speedster, _shit_.

     He quickly scans Barry’s body, searching for whatever is causing the massive amount of blood-stained snow when he sees—  _oh, fuck—_

     A large branch had impaled itself through Barry’s thigh upon impact with the spruce tree, puncturing through the back and poking out a few inches above the knee. It had to have nicked an artery or something for there to be this much blood. He leans forward, trying to see where most of the blood was coming from, wincing as a large globule oozes out of the puncture left of his knee, blood dripping down the speedster’s thigh before landing in the snow with a gross _splatter_.

 _Ok first thing’s first, gotta stop that bleeding._ He looks around for something to use as a tourniquet, stomach clenching with panic when he sees nothing but icy snow and scattered pine trees. He glances at his ring, mentally attempting to summon some form of willpower from it but— _nada_. Completely dead. _Fuck._

     He tears off a long strip from the bottom of his shirt, gripping the branch before pausing. If he removes it now, Barry could bleed out in minutes.. but he has that crazy speedster healing voodoo, what if his body tries to heal around it? He stares at Barry helplessly, unsure of what to do. Normally he would just go with whatever his gut tells him to do, but this is _Barry_. He can’t risk making the wrong decision.

     He lifts his hand to gently cup Barry’s cheek again, thumbing the ice off of the speedster’s long eyelashes unthinkingly. _Dammit,_ he’s so _cold_ —

     His brain conjures up a memory of a conversation they were having earlier, before they lured the meta out of the city. What had Barry said? Something about the cold affecting his abilities, making him slower. Does that mean he can’t heal as fast?

     Hal stares down at the slow-oozing wound and makes a decision. There’s no way he can remove the branch without risking Barry bleeding out on him, especially when he doesn’t have anything substantial to wrap it with. He takes the thin strip from his shirt and ties it tightly around the upper part of his friend’s thigh in an attempt to slow the blood flow. Barry makes another pained groan as his eyelashes flutter. Hal winces in sympathy.

     “Sorry buddy, almost done.”

     He tucks the ends in securely and reaches a hand up towards his earpiece — he has to get Barry out of here, get him someplace warm. Fast.

     “Green Lantern to Justice League, come in.”

     There’s nothing but silence as he taps the earpiece, trying to pick up on some kind of frequency.

     “Green Lantern to Justice League — _Does anyone copy?!_ ”

     Silence — not even static. The thing was completely fried. _Fucking fantastic._ He reaches for the little gold wings on the sides of Barry’s helmet, gently sliding the fabric up and over his head to reveal the speedster’s face. Barry is white as a sheet, eyebrows pinched in pain as his eyelashes flutter occasionally, the silence of the forest interrupted every now and then by his quiet moans of pain. Hal strips off his dad’s jacket and very carefully wraps it around Barry’s chest the best that he can, shivering as the arctic wind hits his bare arms.

     He grabs one of the winged ear-covers and unscrews it, flipping the switch for the Justice League frequency before trying again. _Silence_ — _great_.

     Hal growls in irritation, hand rubbing through his hair roughly, wincing when it comes away slightly bloodied. He must have hit his head when they crash landed in the forest.. that would explain the dizzy feeling he gets when he moves, at least.

     He pushes himself to his feet, slightly unnerved by the silence of the area around him, the only movement a gentle breeze ruffling the pine needles in the trees overhead. He pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stifle the pounding in his head. He needs a game plan, and _fast_.

     He turns towards the north and squints, trying to make out their position. They have to be pretty close to the ocean — he had lured the meta _at least_ a hundred miles north of the town before the explosion. Maybe there would be some fishing village, or ship he could flag down.

     Hal sighs, shoulders drooping with exhaustion. It’s a shitty plan, but it’s the only option he has at the moment. He drops his hand from his brow and glances back at Barry’s still form, guilt gnawing at his stomach. He has to find someplace that isn’t below freezing or Barry is going to die from hypothermia before the Justice League ever finds them.

     He drops back down besides the speedster, heart clenching painfully as he listens to Barry’s ragged breaths. He gently wipes away a drop of blood that had been dripping down Barry’s jaw. He _can’t_ let his best friend die out here — he _won’t_.

     Eyes hardening with resolve, he places a hand behind Barry’s back, pulling him away from the tree as carefully as he can. He spins the speedster around and eases his elbow under Barry’s neck, sliding his other arm beneath his knees as he lifts him from the ground.

     The branch embedded in Barry’s thigh jostles, causing the speedster’s whole body to jerk with a pained gasp. Barry’s eyes shoot open, arm shifting trying to push himself up before collapsing back into Hal’s arms with a groan.

     “Woah, Barry — _Bar!_ _Calm down!_ ”

     Barry’s eyes focus in on Hal’s face, breath evening out as he flicks his gaze over Hal's body. Hal takes a moment to make sure Barry’s not going to fall out of his grip before beginning to navigate through the forest in the direction the breeze is coming from. The speedster’s leg jostles again, Barry’s teeth clenching in pain as he grunts softly.

     “ _H—”_ Barry coughs wetly, fresh blood running down the side of his chin. “— _Hal?_ ”

     Hal smiles down at him softly, eyebrows drawn together with worry. He adjusts his arm under Barry’s neck so he’s resting more on his chest than his forearm, trying to make the speedster more comfortable.

     “Hey, Bar.”

     Barry drags his eyes back towards the sky, hissing as Hal's foot connects with a hard chunk of ice. He glances down at his thigh, noticing the branch embedded in his leg for the first time. The last of the color evaporates from Barry’s face in an instant, eyes widening in horror.

     “I can’t remove it, not when I have nothing to wrap it with — you’ll bleed out, and you’ve already lost a lot of blood. I’m—” Hal swallows, guilt clenching in his stomach. If he had just conserved more of his ring’s power, he could have _prevented_ this. “I’m sorry, Bar.”

     Barry shoots him a weak glare, eyes shifting in an attempted roll. “N-not—” he licks his lips once, cringing as tastes blood. “Not y-your fault.”

     He’s shivering violently now, body desperately trying to regain some of the heat it’s lost. Hal tightens his grip on the speedster, pulling the jacket tighter around him as he quickens his pace, picking his way through the forest.

     “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

     He glances down at Barry with what he hoped was a reassuring smirk, but his friend is already passed out from the pain, head lolling weakly against Hal’s chest. He lets the forced smile slip from his face as he rushes through the thinning trees, finally tasting salt in the air as he catches a glimpse of the ocean in the distance.

     Barry’s shivers are dying down as he approaches the shore, face pressing into Hal’s chest instinctively as he tries to get warm. Hal’s heart clenches painfully, panic bubbling in his throat as he passes through the last of the undersized pine trees, eyes immediately searching the icy horizon for _anything_ they could use as a shelter.

     A gale of nearly frozen air hits Hal, causing him to _swear_ and clench Barry tighter. He squints his eyes against the salty wind, scanning the area for any sort of direction when he spots it — a grey blob standing out against the white glare of the snow about two miles to the East at the base of the mountain. _Good enough_.

     He adjusts his grip on Barry before setting off in the direction of the grey spot, stumbling a bit as his foot gets caught on a deep patch of snow. He’s never really believed in the notion of _hope_ ( _that was always Barry’s area of expertise_ ), preferring to rely on will to get him through any situation — but as he trudges through the ice, ring drained and Barry’s life on the line, he latches on to the tiny spark of hope deep in his gut and uses it to push forward against the biting headwind. 

\------------------------

     Hal sets Barry down on the ice as gently as he can, taking a moment to adjust his dad’s coat around him while eyeing the speedster’s blue-tinged lips with a worried frown. The _grey blob_ had turned out to be a bunker of some sort, probably soviet era, judging from the cheap steel and faded red cyrillic signage. Hal glances towards the sky, briefly closing his eyes as he silently thanks the universe for paranoid Russians.

     He moves further into the small alcove leading to the bunker door, squinting at the iced over metal to try and determine what kind of situation he’s dealing with. The sun has almost completely set over the ocean, the reflections bouncing off the ice casting only a tiny amount of muted light on the steel door inside the entryway to the bunker. Hal can barely _see_ the damn thing, growling in frustration as he kicks the door with the heel of his boot. A huge sheet of ice falls off and shatters against the ground, shards ricocheting across the frozen surface with a loud _clatter_.

     He whips his head around to make sure Barry didn’t get hit by any of the ice fragments, not feeling very relieved to see that the speedster hadn’t moved a single muscle during the commotion. Barry had stopped shivering about ten minutes ago, by Hal’s count, ragged breathing growing slower by the minute. If he doesn't get him out of this arctic weather soon, he isn't sure that Barry is gonna  _wake up_ —

     He cuts off his own thought with another frustrated growl, chest giving a painful throb — that is _not_ going to happen. _This door is going down._

     Taking a moment to steel himself, he kicks the frozen lock with all the strength he can muster, world tilting dangerously as he expends _way_ too much energy for a guy who _definitely_ has a concussion, _more than likely_ some internal damage. The ice surrounding the lock cracks loudly, but otherwise doesn’t budge. _Motherfucker_.

     His body slumps against the wall of the bunker, closing his eyes as he tries to wait for the world to stop spinning. If he passes out now there’s _no way_ Barry will make it, and that is, frankly, _un-fucking-acceptable_.

     He pries his eyes open, world still tilting a bit as he takes a few steps back, adjusting his footing against the slippery ice. His eyes drift down to Barry’s still body for a moment, the familiar surge of willpower bubbling in his gut at the sight.

     He charges at the door full force, slamming his heel into the ice surrounding the lock with his entire body weight behind it. The ice _CRACKS_ and shatters, falling to the ground with loud _thunk_ while the lock snaps off of the door entirely, clattering to the ground alongside the ice. Hal rests his spinning head against the cold metal, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. His voice cracks as he tries to speak, throat sore from a combination of the freezing temperatures and blood he’s been swallowing down for the past hour.

     “Take that, Stalin.”

     He lets his body loll to the side, putting all his body weight behind his shoulder as he pushes into the door. The metal scrapes against the icy ground as it slowly creaks inward, the cold steel giving way to a mostly dark room, the only illumination coming from the dim reflections bouncing off the ice outside the doorway.

     He shoves the door the rest of the way open, staring into the darkness with tired eyes, not sure what he was expecting. This thing has probably been here for over _eighty years —_ it’s a miracle it’s hasn’t collapsed in on itself or gotten permanently buried under the ice.

     Turning away from the musty smelling interior, he stumbles to Barry’s side, easing his arms under the speedster’s neck and knees before carefully cradling him against his chest as he rushes through the doorway into the bunker. He sets Barry down on the concrete floor, immediately moving towards the wall nearest the door to search for some kind of light. The Russians that built this had to have expected it to be dark when they first got in, right? There has to be some sort of light source near the doorway, _aha_ —

     Hal’s hand comes into contact with a short glass object, his ring scraping on the side with a small _ping_. He slides his hand upward, feeling cold metal forming into some kind of handle — _wait a goddamn minute_ —

     He closes his eyes in disbelief, one part relieved, one part _astounded_ by the world’s ability to kick him while he’s down. A _**lantern**_ — _are you fucking serious?_

     He runs a hand along the bottom of the counter searching for some matches or a lighter, his thumb finally brushing against a cold metal handle. He yanks it towards him before shoving a hand inside the opening, fingers brushing against a dozen or so thin cardboard packets. He snatches one up and extracts one of the matches with a shaking hand, fumbling a bit as he tries to light it with the rough back of the cardboard. He strikes once, twice, a _third_ time before the match sparks and dies.

     “God _damnit_.”

     He clenches his eyes shut, ring hand rubbing at his eyelids as he tries to focus his brain on this simple task, the cool green metal not providing any of its usual reassurance. There’s a ringing in his ears and it feels like he’s walking on a sinking ship, his temples pounding and thoughts scattered. God, they _really_ need to get out of here.

     Hal fumbles for another match, Barry’s soft, ragged breaths prompting him to stop wasting time and _light_ the damn thing. He strikes the narrow piece of wood against the rough back of the cardboard, a small flame bursting into existence on the first try — _success_. A shaking hand finds the wick at the lantern’s center and the room illuminates with warm yellow light, shadows dancing off the dents of the cheap steel walls. He hefts the lantern in the air, spinning around to assess his surroundings.

     The bunker isn’t very impressive — it’s smaller than his shitty apartment back in Coast City, a set of cabinets on each of the opposite walls, an empty gun-rack nestled into a corner. He spies four double bunks against the wall opposite the door and rushes to set the lantern on the table in the center of the room before turning to where Barry is lying motionless on the floor. He detours to slam the bunker door shut against the biting arctic air before easing the speedster off of the ground with a soft grunt of exertion. His legs shake with exhaustion as he crosses to the back of the room, carefully arranging Barry on one of the bottom bunks and closing his eyes against the onset of dizziness. _Don’t pass out — do **not** pass out —_

     He reaches a shaking hand out and gently brushes Barry’s sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead, an unfamiliar stab of fear clenching in his stomach when the speedster doesn’t respond. Hal leans forward to inspect the area that the branch had punctured, wincing in sympathy at the sight of bloodied skin and shredded uniform. The wound had finally stopped oozing blood, but Hal isn’t sure that’s the best sign — he doesn’t think that Barry is actually _healing_ , just that the exposed part of his leg is so cold that the blood flow has nearly stopped.

     Hal pushes off of his knees from where he was bent over Barry’s bedside, foot catching on a table leg as he moves towards the row of cabinets against the nearest wall to check for any sort of bandages or blankets he can use. He has to get Barry _warm_ , but that means the speedster’s accelerated metabolism will kick in and try to heal — _meaning_ he _has_ to remove the branch before that happens, or the situation could get a _lot_ worse.

     He yanks open one of the cabinet’s handles, eyeing the rows of boxed ammunition with a frustrated glare. He shoves the boxes around, briefly checking the rest of the cabinet for anything useful before slamming the door closed and opening the next one. The warm light of the lantern glints off of a dozen or so glass bottles and he grabs the closest one to inspect it. The faded label is in cyrillic but it’s obvious what he’s holding — _Vodka, nice_.

     Setting one of the bottles down on the center table, he turns back to the cabinets and opens one of the wider ones on the lower levels. Hal sticks his hand in, fingertips brushing over a fuzzy fabric. He breathes out a sigh of relief — finally, some _luck —_ as he pulls out two musty wool blankets, tossing them on the table as he continues to search for something he can use as a bandage.

     Barry coughs from across the room and Hal’s head snaps up, stomach clenching with renewed panic as he spies another drop of blood trailing down the speedster’s chin and onto his suit. He tears his gaze away, rummaging through the cabinets as quickly as he can — he needs _something_ , _anything_ he can use as a bandage, come _on —_

     His hand closes over a small metal tin and he jerks it out of the cabinet depths, prying it open and shoving it closer to the light. Inside is a bottle of some kind of _way-past-expired_ pills, some heavy duty thread and a needle, a pair of scissors, and — _yes, thank god_ — some thick cotton bandages and gauze.

     He grabs the bandages, gauze, scissors, and the bottle of vodka with one hand, scooping up the lantern with his other before stumbling in the direction of the bunks. Hal kicks a chair from the table across the floor to Barry’s bedside and sets the lantern on it with a _thunk_ , dropping the rest of the supplies at the bottom of the bed before finally pulling up another chair and picking up the scissors.

     Hal cuts around the puncture wound on Barry's thigh as quickly as he can without poking any more holes in Barry’s skin, left hand unconsciously moving to rest on Barry’s uninjured leg, thumb rubbing in a comforting circle. He finishes snipping around the fabric under the knee, setting the scissors down and tugging Barry’s bright yellow boots off one at a time, thumbing the little wings with a fond smile. He pulls the scraps of fabric away from the wound, pausing to frown at his dirty, blood-stained hands. Running back to the set of cabinets, he grabs another bottle of vodka and pries off the cork with his teeth before pouring it over his hands and rubbing them together as thoroughly as he can, drying them off on one of the spare bunk’s sheets.

     He swipes a wool blanket off of the table, moving back to the bunk and tucking it as securely as he can around the speedster’s upper body before plopping down on the chair and gently rolling Barry on his side so that the base of the branch sticking out of the back of his thigh is more accessible. He really _, really_ hopes Barry stays unconscious for this next bit, because it’s _definitely_ going to hurt.

     Hal grits his teeth before giving the branch an experimental tug to see just how embedded it is in Barry’s thigh and the speedster’s whole body jerks with pain as the branch shifts slightly. Barry lets out a quiet _whimper_ , but, fortunately ( worryingly ), doesn’t wake up. _Unfortunately_ for Barry, he has to remove it as _slowly_ as he can or else he risks the branch snapping and splintering inside of the wound, which would cause twenty kinds of _horrible_ problems.

     He pushes off the chair and braces his right knee behind Barry’s wounded leg, left hand pressing down on the speedster’s upper thigh as his right wraps around the base of the branch as tightly as he can.

     “Sorry Bar — I’ll make this quick.”

     He twists the branch a tiny bit to detach it from the ice that has accumulated around the puncture and begins to pull it towards the bunker wall, the offending piece of blood-stained wood resisting briefly before sliding with a sickening _squelching_ noise. Barry’s eyelids clamp down tightly, body spasming as he gasps with pain, head tossing against the pillow, droplets of sweat pouring down his face. Hal shifts his left hand so that it’s pressing down on Barry’s chest as he continues to pull, gagging a bit as fresh blood _oozes_ out of the now vacant exit wound.

     “Almost there, Bar, you’re doing great– just a little bit more—”

     The rest of the branch slides out in a rush, Hal releasing the breath he’s been holding for the last minute as he moves the branch closer to the light, quickly scanning to see if any parts look broken off. He sighs with relief— the branch is fairly smooth, probably too young to sprout any twigs. He rubs his right hand under the wool blanket against Barry’s chest in slow soothing motion as his left grabs the spare bottle of vodka, cork popping off with a loud sucking noise. He quickly pours some over the exit wound — he has to disinfect it _somehow_ — wincing in sympathy as Barry’s body gives another jerk, a moan escaping the speedster’s pale lips.

     He grabs the spare sheet as he pours some of the vodka over the entrance wound, dabbing gently at the dried blood. Barry is sweating profusely now, eyebrows furrowed as his soft gasps of pain echo around the bunker, each one making Hal’s stomach clench with guilt.

     Once he’s sure that the wound is as clean as he’s going to be able to get it he grabs the gauze and roll of bandages, easing Barry’s leg off of the bed to rest on his own thigh as he gently packs the gauze into both sides of the wound. Satisfied that the gauze is staying put, he wraps the bandages around Barry’s thigh as efficiently as he can, going through the entire roll before he’s deemed it _acceptable_. He tucks the end in snugly before easing off the bed and running a shaking hand through his hair. At least the blood flow had slowed to the point where he’s pretty sure Barry won’t be bleeding out anytime soon — that is, if he hasn’t lost an irreplaceable amount of blood _anyways_.

     He moves to pull the wool blanket so that it covers the rest of Barry’s body, frowning when his hand comes into contact with the speedster’s uniform. The friction-resistant fabric is wet with a gross mixture of sweat, blood, and melted ice, clinging to Barry’s skin and acting as a barrier between the speedster and _any_ chance of getting warm. Hal lets his hand fall from Barry’s chest as his head lolls backwards, gaze burning a hole into the ceiling as he lets out a frustrated groan. The ways in which the Universe decides to fuck with him are _cruel_.

     He shoots a glare at the scissors like they personally offended him before snatching them off the sheet, carefully moving down the bunk towards Barry’s right ankle. He peels off the speedster’s soaking wet, bright red socks with a snort — _what a dork_ — before carefully positioning the scissors and beginning to snip up the seam of the bright red material as fast as he can manage, left hand easing the destroyed fabric away from pale skin as he works his way up the Barry’s body with an attempted medical professionalism he _really_ doesn’t feel.

     Hal’s nerves are a little more than shot, heart pounding in his chest as he pries off the last of the suit, tossing it to the floor. He hobbles to the last bunk on shaking legs and yanks the sheets and pillow off it, snatching the second wool blanket from the table on the way back to Barry’s bedside before hesitating, mouth going dry at the sight before him.

     It’s not like he’s never seen Barry without his suit before, but never like _this_ , sculpted body glistening with sweat as his muscles tremble against the sheets of the bunk, head turned into the pillow, a light flush on his cheekbones. There’s a thin web of scars running down the speedster’s abs, trail disappearing under the bright red boxer briefs that are — mercifully — still dry.

     Barry’s fingers twitch in his unconscious state, a quiet groan of pain breaking Hal out of his stupor as glances down to the pile of blankets in his hands with a frown. It’s not going to be _enough_ , with how much body heat the speedster has lost. If he’s learned anything from being exposed to the intense cold of space, Barry needs—

     He’s tugging his wet shirt over his head before he can really think about it, slipping out of his soggy jeans in a practiced motion before throwing the sheet over Barry’s body, piling on both wool blankets and lifting the edge to slide into the bunk on Barry’s right side. He makes sure the corners of the blankets are tucked securely around the speedster’s body before placing a hand on Barry’s hip, ignoring his rapid heart rate as he gently tugs the smaller man so that he’s pressed up against his chest. His arm slides up Barry’s back — _damnit_ , his skin is so _cold_ — as he slips his calf between Barry’s legs, careful not to put any pressure on the wound. Only when he’s _sure_ that he’s making as much body contact with the speedster as humanly possible does he allow himself to relax a bit, chin coming to rest on the top of Barry’s head as his eyes slump with exhaustion.

     All he can do now is wait. 

\------------------------ 

     He’s not sure how long it’s been — probably only half an hour or so — before he feels a small tremor from Barry’s body, followed by another, more violent shiver. Hal’s arm is asleep from where it’s curled under Barry’s neck, his leg throbbing from the awkward position he’s been holding it in to maintain maximum body contact, but he can’t bring himself to move, the worried knot in his stomach forcing him to stay right where he is, stay _awake_ , and make sure Barry’s gonna be OK.

     His right hand gently thumbs at a knob in Barry’s spine, careful not to press too hard at the mess of black and blue bruises scattered over his back, scooping the speedster closer as his shivers get worse, teeth clattering in his mouth as he lets out a small pained sound. Hal’s heart can only take so much, and it’s been through _hell_ today — he’s so tired that he can barely _think_ but he can’t fall asleep, can’t let something happen to Barry or miss the rescue party.

     He slides his right hand down to check Barry’s pulse again, his left hand gently carding through damp blond strands as he counts the beats of Barry’s heart, the slow _ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump_ assuring him that Barry’s still alive, that he’s still _here_. His hand drags back up Barry’s side, trailing along the slightly raised flesh of a lightning-shaped scar, intricate web of white winding from Barry’s chest to his hip, and down into the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

     Blood rushes to his face as he yanks his hand away as if scalded, pressing it to his eyeballs while trying to force his brain to stop misinterpreting the situation. Barry lets out a small whine, face burrowing into Hal’s chest in his sleep and Hal guiltily wraps his arm back around Barry’s back, staring straight at the wall of the bunker as he forces his heart to stop beating so erratically.

     It’s not like Hal’s in _denial_ — he _knows_ that something has shifted in the way he feels about Barry in the last few months, stomach flopping over when Barry shoots him a smile, gut clenching with a disproportionate amount of worry when he can’t find the speedster after a battle. He knows that _something’s_ changed in the way that he flies straight to Central after he gets back to Earth, completely ignoring his dusty apartment in Coast City — in the way that he can actually stomach Watchtower duty if Barry’s spinning in the chair next to him, laughing at Hal’s horrible Batman impressions, blue eyes crinkling with happiness.

     He _knows_ what it means — and it’s fucking  _terrifying._

     Barry lets out a small sound from against his chest, mouth shifting against his skin in a way that forces Hal to inch his pelvis away as subtly as he can, the speedster’s eyelashes fluttering against Hal’s skin as his head pulls back. Blue eyes drag open, staring in confusion at the sight of Hal’s chest, brows furrowing as he lifts a finger and pokes at one of Hal’s ab muscles. Hal sucks a huge breath in, crippling relief flooding through his chest — he’s _awake —_ before letting the air out through his nose as he gently grabs Barry’s chin with his right hand and tilts his head up so he can look in his eyes.

     “Barry, you with me? How you feelin’ buddy?”

     The speedster’s hand flexes against Hal’s chest, blinking slowly as he drags his eyes over Hal’s face, mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to remember how to speak.

     “.. H-Hal? ” his voice cracks, barely a whisper as he blinks again, eyes slipping shut as a violent shiver engulfs his entire body, ducking his head back into the warmth of Hal’s chest as his teeth chatter, every quiet _clack_ sending a stab of worry through Hal’s chest.

     “Yeah it’s me, Bar. You’re OK — I got you.”

     Hal curls his hand back into Barry’s hair, tucking him under his chin as he rubs soothingly up and down his spine with a light touch, trying to offer whatever warmth and comfort he can. Barry tries to speak again, licking his lips as he opens his mouth, Hal sucking in a startled breath as Barry’s tongue brushes against his sternum, stomach muscles clenching in response.

     “C-cold—” he coughs, a wet sound that sends another bolt of panic straight to Hal’s chest. “— w-where?”

     The blanket had slipped down a bit so Hal tugs it back up, tucking it under Barry’s shoulder securely before responding.

     “Do you remember the attack? The explosion?”

     He feels Barry nod against his chest with a small motion, soft hair brushing against the skin of his neck as a frozen finger moves in a small pattern over Hal’s skin.

     “You lost a lot of blood and it was getting dark, I had to get us out of the cold,” his thumb starts rubbing small circles over the raised scar on Barry’s side, Barry _humming_ in response. “I found this bunker about a few miles away, some kind of ancient soviet thing.”

     Barry’s hand shifts in a lazy motion away from Hal’s chest, sliding down the pilot’s side to rest on his hip bone, turning his head further into the bunk as he tugs ineffectively at Hal’s side, trying to bring the pilot closer. Hal feels a warm feeling rise up from his navel to his collar bone, fond smile forming on his face — ugh, why does Barry have to be so goddamn _adorable_. This is _not_ helping.

     “I figured we should probably stay put until Bats is able to track us down — it shouldn’t be long now,” he shifts his hand up Barry’s back to rub in light circles along the base of his neck, heart rate still uncomfortably high. “We’ll get you to the Watchtower’s medical wing in no time — you’re gonna be fine. I patched you up the best I could, but I think you’re still too cold for your speedster healing voodoo to kick in.”

     He feels Barry’s eyelashes drag against his chest as soon as he mentions the injury, blond hair shifting as he attempts to lift his head to look at his leg before giving up and burrowing back into the heat of the blanket cocoon Hal has made for him. He feels Barry’s thigh muscles clench as he tries to move, Barry letting out a quiet hiss, fingers digging into Hal’s hip as he grits his teeth against the pain.

     “Stop that.” Hal gives him a light smack to the back of his head. “I just wrapped that up and I don’t want you messing up my handiwork.”

     Barry makes a grumpy sound, shivers dying down again as his hand slips around Hal’s back, trailing his fingers over firm muscles unthinkingly, cold toes flexing against Hal’s bare feet. Each pass of Barry’s hand is fraying Hal’s nerves more and more, the pilot grinding his teeth as he tries to think of the least sexy things he can imagine — _Kilowog naked. Black Hand naked —_

     He gags. _Ugh_ , _what the fuck, brain_ — _too far._ Any inappropriate thoughts he may or may not have been having about the warm man currently wrapped around him like a burrito are temporarily put aside and he resumes his earlier comforting rubbing. Barry suddenly stills, pulling his head back as he blinks once in confusion, raising a hand to tug on the edge of the blanket, trying to escape.

     Hal bats his hand down, frowning at Barry in concern. “Hey, stop that — what’re you doing? You need to stay warm.”

     Barry squirms, hand shoving against Hal’s chest weakly. “..’otta g-go, make s-sure everyone's _a-alright_ —”

     Hal snatches the escaping hand in his own, pinning it between their chests as he brushes the hair back from Barry’s head as an overwhelming rush of _fondness_ fills his chest. That’s Barry for you — barely able to move, delirious with blood loss, and _still_ trying to help everyone but himself.

     “ _You’re_ the only one that got hurt, you dork. Everyone else is _fine_ , I promise.”

     He tugs the blankets back around them, holding Barry tight as he calms down, blood rushing in a distinctly _downward_ direction as Barry’s now sweat-soaked chest slides over his own. _Oh my god_ , _what did he do to deserve this?_

     His whole body freezes as Barry wiggles around enough for his trapped hand to become free, trailing it down over Hal’s ab muscles as Hal sucks in a breath, clenching his eyes shut as he swears under his breath.

     “.. ‘s nice.. _hard_ —”

     Hal lets out a dramatic sob — _why_ , _why is this happening to him —_ pulling away from Barry’s warmth a bit in an attempt to hide how _tight_ his boxers are, hoping that Barry won’t remember any of this when he’s lucid. Barry makes a noise of protest, tugging on Hal’s bicep as he traps Hal’s panicked eyes with his own, pupils dilated behind heavy eyelids, light flush on his cheekbones.

     The thing is, it would be a lot easier if it was just him — but he’s about ninety percent sure that it’s _not_. He's caught Barry staring at him when he thinks Hal isn't looking, can _feel_ Barry's eyes dragging over his body when he’s sweaty and bruised after a patrol. He _knows_ that Barry wants something more in the way his hand shakes sometimes when he's checking on him after a battle, the way he blushes furiously every time Hal makes a dirty joke, how his breath catches when Hal stands a little too close for comfort, pupils dark and enticing. _God_ , he _wants_ to— wants to just close the distance, to press their lips together and give in, but..

     .. what if he’s _wrong_? Barry’s never said anything about being anything other than straight — what if Hal’s just.. misreading things? You can be attracted to someone and not want to _be_ with them.. what if Hal goes for it and Barry _rejects him?_ If he tries it and it ruins their friendship, if things turned awkward and he lost Barry’s presence in his life, he doesn't know _what_ he’d do. Their friendship is _everything_ to him — it’s the most stable thing he has, the only thing he can rely on. Even when everything else is gone, there’s always Barry. He can’t risk it.

     A breath catches in his throat as he stares at Barry’s blatant bedroom eyes, placing a desperate hand on Barry’s chest to try to abort any forward motion. _Ugh, he can't think about that now,_ not when Barry is delirious with blood loss, probably hallucinating. Barry’s lips part as he turns his head back into the pillow, shoulders slumping as he drops his hand with defeat.

     “.. not gonna _leave,_ a-are you?” The words are muffled by the pillow, Hal straining to hear them. “.. _hate it —_ when you _l-leave.._ ”

     Something painful stabs at his heart as he drops his hand from Barry’s chest, letting it plop to the bed between them, embarrassment forgotten. He hears Barry make an unhappy sound from where he’s buried in the pillow, Hal smiling softly as Barry rolls his body back on his side, eyes unfocused as he blinks up at Hal’s face.

     “What, when I go on a mission? I’m never gone for that long.”

     Barry’s hand drags down between them, finding Hal’s somewhere in the middle and tugging it upwards to rest on the pillow, rolling his cheek on top of it. _Damn_ , he’s _really_ sweaty — that’s probably a bad sign.

     “.. _worry_ ‘bout you — n-not there to.. to watch your _back_.”

     Hal gently extracts his hand, moving to rub at the back of Barry’s skull and Barry lets out a soft moan at the contact. He really can’t help himself — it’s like now that he’s finally allowed himself to touch he can’t stop, the feel of Barry’s skin against his more addictive than _any_ drug. Barry shivers again, weaker than before, and Hal mentally steels himself before tugging him back on his side and tentatively pressing them back together. Barry’s warm mouth brushes against his chest, lips sliding against hot skin, words barely a whisper.

     “.. ‘s a nice back.”

     He can’t help but smirk at that, resting his chin on top of Barry’s head as he blinks his eyes to try and stay awake. It’s been a few hours now and he’s _exhausted_ , his head throbbing every few seconds or so, stabbing feeling in his ribs indicating that they’re probably broken (  _eh, he's had worse_ ). Barry has stopped moving around so much, ragged breaths growing quieter against his chest. He tilts his head down, frowning in concern at how _still_ Barry's is — he _really_ doesn't want him to fall back asleep, especially when he might not _wake back up._ His right hand pokes at Barry's lower back, the speedster letting out a small sound in protest as he burrows his head further into the bunk.

     “Hey, you gotta stay awake Bar. Talk to me.”

     Barry's hand slides up Hal's chest to his face, rolling his head back to stare at Hal's chin, frowning in confusion. His hand flexes weakly against Hal's stubble, piece of blond hair flopping into his eyes.

     “S-stop that.” His head falls back to the pillow, finger dragging across Hal's cheekbone as Hal holds in a breath. “No.. N-no spinnin’.”

     Hal reaches up to grab Barry's hand in his, dragging it back between their chests but not letting go, eyes widening when he realises that the tips of Barry's fingers are blue. _Shit, definitely not a good sign._

     “You're dizzy? Bar, you gotta talk to me here— kind of just eyeballing this.”

     “M’tired.. f-feel _weird_..”

     He feels the panic start rise up again, shifting his hand to check Barry’s pulse (  _slow, too slow_ ) before making sure Barry didn’t mess up his bandages with all his squirming, hand sliding down the speedster’s side before gently trailing over the mess of cotton. His stomach _flops_  as his hand comes back wet with blood _— shit_ , when had his wound started bleeding again? _Shit shit shit_ —

     Hal’s gut clenches with renewed worry, gently rolling Barry onto his back, the blond’s breathing quiet and uneven, eyebrows furrowed with pain as sweat pours down his temples. Hal tucks the blankets back around him, pushing the damp hair off Barry’s forehead as he flounders for what to do. The blood _could_ be a good sign, that Barry’s warm enough to start healing, but he’s already lost _so much_ — he isn’t sure that he can _afford_ to lose any more.

     He grabs at the wool blanket, pulling it back as he climbs on top of Barry’s knees, wincing at the dark stain revealed by the dim light of the lantern. Adrenaline rushes through him as he grabs the edge of the fabric, pressing it firmly to the puncture wound as Barry lets out a hiss, fist clenching around the edge of the pillow as his eyes flutter open, something in Hal’s chest breaking when he sees how _watery_ they are.

     “I’m sorry Bar, I know it hurts — I have to do something to slow this bleeding — you’re gonna be fine, rescue will be here soon, I promise —” He’s rambling now, not sure if it’s for Barry’s benefit or his own, room spinning as he holds the blanket to Barry’s thigh, shaking his head to try to focus. _God_ , what if Barry _dies_ — _what if he just fades away right in front of him_ —

     Barry’s eyes catch his as he clenches his teeth against the pain, something desperate in his expression as his hand moves in Hal’s direction, body losing the energy somewhere along the way, hand flopping to his stomach.

     “ _Hal, I_ —”

     “Shhh, don’t speak — it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, just _hold on_ —”

     Blue eyes slipped closed, head flopping against the pillow as he loses consciousness. Hal reaches with the hand not keeping pressure on the wound to grab Barry’s blue-tinged fingers, squeezing tightly as he blinks his eyes, trying to quell the desperate feeling rising in his throat.

     “Barry, just stay with me — open your eyes Bar, _please_ —”

     It hits him suddenly, like a hammer to his chest, that he’s _afraid_. He’s fucking _terrified_ — the thought of Barry not waking up, of just fading away until he’s gone from Hal’s life _forever_ is something that he _can’t_ accept. He tries to imagine waking up every day, knowing that Barry’s not waiting for him to laugh at his dumb jokes, to blush when Hal tries to rile him up, to smile up at him as he flies them through space on their way to a crazy adventure, and he just _can’t_. Trying to imagine a life without Barry makes his whole body shake, fear causing his head to spin as he tugs on Barry’s hand, voice cracking with desperation as he yells at him —

     “Barry! _Barry!_ ”

     Barry’s breathing is slowing, pulse sickeningly slow as the last bit of color fades from his cheeks, fading away right in front of him and there’s _nothing_ Hal can do, he can’t _stop_ it —

     A calm voice suddenly penetrates the haze of fear, accompanied by a loud _whirring_ sound from overhead, cheap metal walls of the bunker shaking from the vibrations — _oh thank fuck_.

     “ _Green Lantern, we have your location.”_

     J’onn’s voice is the greatest fucking thing he’s ever heard, the deep cadence echoing in his mind as he shakes Barry’s chest ineffectively, head swimming with a nauseating mix of relief and terror.

     “ _J’onn!_ You have to get him out of here, get him to the medbay, he’s not gonna make it much longer—”

     “ _Understood. Batman is on his way down.”_

     Hal slides his shaking hand to Barry’s cheek, leaning over him as he continues to press on the wound, vision blurring as his breaths turn shallow.

     “Just hang on Bar, help’s almost here, you’re gonna be _fine_ —”

     The door breaks off its hinges, slamming to the ground with a loud _clatter_. Hal’s head whips in the direction of the entrance as Bruce quickly scans the room before darting in their direction, cape flapping behind him, not even blinking at their current state of undress as he reaches the bunk. He kneels down beside the bed, pulling out his wrist scanner before running it down Barry’s body, pausing when he gets to the puncture wound on his thigh.

     “He’s lost a lot of blood, we have to get him to the Watchtower.” Bruce is as calm as ever, not showing a hint of emotion as he presses a hand to the earpiece hidden in his cowl.

     “J’onn, we need you to lift Flash out of here—  _now_.”

     His head turns towards Hal, mouth opening to question him before shooting a hand out to grip Hal's shoulder, steadying him as he sways alarmingly. Bruce frowns, pointing the scanner at the pilot.

     “Hal, you need to calm down — you have a concussion, several broken ribs, and you’re severely dehydrated. Panicking is only going to make it worse.”

     Hal struggles to catch his breath, eyes locked on Barry’s barely moving chest, room tilting dangerously as he clenches Barry’s hand. His vision swims, turning black around the edges before blurring completely, eyes rolling back in his head as the world goes dark. 

\------------------------

     A distant _beep, beep, beep_ pulls him from a deep sleep, the sound echoing around his ear as it pierces through the dark haze of Hal’s unconscious mind. He lets out an annoyed groan, flopping his arm in the direction of his phone in an attempt to silence the noise, frowning when his hand meets nothing but air.

     He drags his eyes open, blinking a few dozen times to try to focus them as he listens to the constant beeping, shaking his head a bit as he tries to remember where he is and how he got there. It’s not the _first_ time he’s woken up in an unfamiliar place without a shirt on, but his body feels like it got thrown into a meteor and his throat is scratchy and sore like he had drunk some ill-advised ( _probably incompatible with human physiology_ ) alien beverage, so he feels like he should at least make an _effort_ to remember. The pillow next to his face comes into focus, the stark, scratchy blue linen triggering some memory deep in the recesses of his brain. He drags his hand up to roll the blue sheets between his fingers — _where has he seen this before?_

     The memory _clicks_ in his brain and he jerks his head upwards in surprise, collapsing back against the bed as the room spins around him, stomach clenching with nausea. The Watchtower medbay _?_ Oh god, something _horrible_ must have happened, because he would never go here _willingly_.. unless Barry had dragged him here after he hit a building a little _too_ hard. It wouldn’t be the first time, the _bastard_ —

     It comes rushing back to him in an instant — the exploding metahuman, the cold, Barry almost _dying_ – shit, _Barry_ —

     The beeping accelerates drastically as he struggles to push himself upright, ribs burning in protest as he tugs harshly on the IV stuck in his arm, the needle _clinking_ against the metal railing on the small medical bed as it is pulled from his skin. His eyes dart frantically around the room, trying to find a sign of Barry — a sign that he didn’t fail, that Barry is still _alive_.

     He spies a section of the wing with a curtain pulled around it, a faint light emitting from the gap between the fabric and the floor, glinting off the cold tile like a homing beacon. Hal throws his feet over the side of the bed, gripping the metal railing with a clammy hand as he waits for the nausea to pass, breathing hard as he struggles to stand upright. The floor tilts dangerously underneath him as he takes a hesitant step forward, leaning heavily against the wall for support as he stumbles towards the closed curtains. He finally makes it to the edge, breath coming in painful gasps as he yanks at the fabric of the curtains, tugging them back to reveal—

     His breath _whooshes_ out of him all at once and he _slumps_ into a nearby chair, relief flooding through his body as his eyes drag over his best friend, gaze fixating on the gentle rise and fall of his chest— _still alive, still here– he's still here—_ under the mountain of blankets someone had piled on top of him. He scoots the chair closer, reaching out with a shaking hand and slipping it under the thick fabric, fingertips brushing over warm — _not cold, not slowly freezing to death as Hal watches, helpless to do anything to stop it_ — skin and curling around it, latching on to Barry’s arm like an anchor as he lets his head drop to the thin mattress. _He’s fine. He’s okay._

     He doesn't want to think about the _fear_ he had felt when Barry lost consciousness, the way the panic had eaten away at him as he desperately tried to keep him alive, pouring every ounce of will he had left into making sure Barry stayed right by his side, where he belongs. Hal _knows_ what it means– that the only thing that can make him freeze up in _fear_ is the thought of losing Barry, of having to live his life without Barry's _begrudging_ laughter, without those big blue eyes crinkling with delight, without his warm hand on his shoulder to reassure him that everything's going to be all right– that he's not _alone_. He can't really deny it at this point — the evidence is pretty damning. Still.. just because he can't deny it anymore doesn't mean that Barry feels the same way, doesn't mean that he has the right to touch him in such a casual way.. and yet — he can't quite bring himself to let go, to pull back and go back to that constant state of quiet _longing_.

     He slides his hand down Barry’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist and resting his thumb over his pulse, focusing on the steady _thump thump thump_ as he lets himself relax for the first time since they left the Watchtower that morning. Hal can feel the darkness start to creep into the corners of his eyes, unconsciousness pulling at him like quicksand but his body refuses to budge from the spot by Barry’s side. His foot scoots the chair a little closer, his other arm sliding up to act as a makeshift pillow as his eyes slip closed.

\------------------------

     The first thing Barry feels when he slips into consciousness is _warmth_ — blissful, overwhelming _heat_ that seeps into every inch of his skin. He feels cozy and a little bit _woozy_ as he attempts to pry his eyes open, the weight of his eyelids proving too heavy to lift, so he focuses on his other senses– hears a steady _beeping_ sound from somewhere to his left, feels soft fabric slide across his feet as he shifts his leg, can taste the bitter flavor of something _sterile_ on his tongue and determines — _medbay_. But.. _why is he here?_

     He registers a warm weight curled around his left wrist and wiggles his fingers with _curiosity_ , letting his head loll to the left as he tries to force his eyes open one more time, unable to determine what it is with just his touch. Blue eyes peek out from behind tired eyelids, eyelashes dragging against warm skin as he blinks, world a defocused blur. Barry blinks again, shifting his head to get a better view– there's a brown blur somewhere near his wrist and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. _What—?_

     The blur starts to take shape, brown smudge becoming disheveled hair, familiar cheekbones poking out from where he's resting his head on his arm, lips parted as he quietly snores into the sheets. Barry can't help the curl of his mouth when he realises that the warm weight is Hal's hand wrapped around his wrist, the pilot’s thumb brushing over his pulse like he’s watching over him in his sleep. He twists his hand around, slipping his fingers through Hal’s own and _squeezing_ lightly, a different kind of warmth spreading throughout his chest as Hal makes a quiet, happy-sounding noise in his sleep.

     Fragments of memories are starting to come back to him — the fight with the metahuman, the explosion that knocked him out– the _tree branch_ that had impaled itself through his thigh. He drags his spare hand over his chest, movements sluggish and uncoordinated as he tries to peek at his thigh under the mountain of blankets. The weight of the fabric is too much and he flops his hand back to the bed with a _huff_ of annoyance. Another memory surfaces and his gaze flicks down to Hal’s hair, remembering the warm weight of Hal’s jacket wrapped around his shoulders, the sensation of being carried as Hal tried to shelter him from the arctic wind. He recalls some kind of dim, metal structure– the acrid smell of alcohol and the biting sting of the branch getting removed. He brushes his thumb over the back of Hal’s hand unthinkingly, gaze unfocused as he tries to remember what happened next. There was.. _heat?_ Something warm..

     His cheeks _flush_ with embarrassment, free hand coming to press at his eyeballs as he remembers the feeling of Hal’s chest pressed against his, the way he’d practically _groped_ him, the way Hal’s muscles had felt under his fingers. _Oh god_. The _beeping_ noise accelerates as he remembers the way their sweat-soaked muscles had slid together, the way Hal’s hand had slid down his side, thumb brushing against his spine— _wait, what?_

     He peeks out from behind his hand, staring at Hal’s peaceful expression with an assessing gaze. Barry remembers it now, the feeling of Hal’s fingers massaging his skull, the way he stared at him with something that looked a lot like _panic_ , the way his muscles had jumped under Barry’s hands as he slid his fingers up his chest. He's thought he's caught Hal staring at him sometimes, dark brown eyes dragging over his body when they're sitting across from each other at the conference table, an involuntary lick of his lips when Barry stretches before a fight, but he's not _sure._ Hal flirts with practically everything that moves _—_  it's in his DNA, it's part of who Hal is— and what's to say he isn't just, well, being _him_?

     Barry can feel the weariness creep back up on him ( _moving his hand is too much effort — he needs to rest.. besides, Hal's the one who put his hand there in the first place_ ), remembering the last few moments before it all went dark– remembers the way Hal had gripped his hand so tightly, fear in his eyes as the world has gone black on the edges, recalls the panic in his voice as Hal had pleaded with him ( _he had wanted to say–remembers wanting to tell him before it was too late ),_ and.. well, all of his reasons seem so _insignificant_ now. Nothing like almost dying to put things in perspective _._ Maybe.. when he's no longer piled under a mountain of blankets, still slightly delirious from blood loss.. maybe– maybe he'll tell him.

     The medbay doors open with a quiet _swoosh_ and Barry drags his eyes towards the doorway, too tired to be embarrassed about the ongoing hand-holding. J'onn glides over to his bedside, mouth curled up in a small smile and Barry opens his mouth to speak, to thank him for what he did, but ends up _coughing_ instead, throat still impossibly dry. His eyes water as he tries to catch his breath as a glass of water suddenly floats in front of his face, tipping towards his mouth and he shoots J'onn a grateful smile before chugging half the glass in one go. _Oh god— he didn't know water could taste so good._

     “You'll be happy to know that your leg is already mostly healed now that your body temperature is warm enough for your accelerated metabolism to expedite the process.” J'onn’s voice has a soothing, deep cadence that always puts Barry at ease, and this time is no exception. He _swallows_ around his dry throat one more time before attempting to speak, voice no more than a croaking _whisper._

 _“_ Wh–what about him?” He nods his head in Hal's direction, a little worried that he didn't wake up during all the commotion. “He okay?”

     J'onn pins him with a _knowing_ sort of look but Barry's too exhausted to care. “He has two broken ribs and a concussion, numerous bruises and cuts, and was severely dehydrated, but he's going to make a full recovery.. _if_ he can manage to stay in a bed for that long.”

     Barry _snorts,_ thumb brushing fondly against Hal's hand. “Wouldn't count on it.” Hal hates hospitals— every time Barry drags him to the medbay after a fight he's always the first one to leave. He practically has to sit on him to get him to stay. Blue eyes find J'onn’s own as he tilts his head up, darkness creeping into the edges of his vision.

     “Can you levitate him back to his bed? I don't want his ribs to get messed up again.” J'onn gives him a respectful _nod_ before raising a hand in Hal's direction, going to lift the pilot up when Hal let's out a distressed noise, fingers _squeezing_ around Barry's wrist in protest, still fast asleep. Barry blushes as J'onn sets him back down, ignoring the Martian’s smirk.

     “It would seem he does not wish to be separated.” Barry _sighs_ , head falling back against the pillow as his eyes slip closed. _God, he's so tired– he'll deal with the aftermath later.. for now—_

     “Just—” he _yawns_ , head tilting to the side “—just put him up here.” J'onn doesn't say a goddamn word ( _and somehow that's worse ),_ levitating Hal into the bed as Barry scoots to the right to make room, limbs heavy as he struggles to stay awake. J'onn checks on the monitor one more time before gliding back out of the room, dimming the lights as the doors close behind him with another quiet _swoosh_.

     Barry stares at Hal's peaceful face suddenly so close, hand not tangled in the pilot's own attempting to drag a blanket over Hal's body, managing to get it over his torso before his hand loses all strength, the dead weight flopping on Hal's side. His fingers _flex_ against Hal's warm skin, content feeling washing over him as he finally closes his eyes and let's sleep claim him once again.

\------------------------

     When Barry’s eyes drag open next he realises two things— one, he feels about ten thousand percent better, the room no longer tilting unpleasantly, vision not blurred and disoriented, and _two_.. Hal’s eyes have little flecks of gold in them. Said eyes blink at him from a few inches away, a little crease by his left eye smoothing out as Hal’s gaze darts over his face assessingly. Barry blinks again, knowing that he should probably.. scoot backwards and disentangle their hands ( _and his leg over Hal’s thigh, and his other hand wrapped around Hal’s waist– jesus christ_ ), should ask him how he’s feeling and tell him to move back to his own bed, but instead..

     Blue eyes drop to their hands threaded together between them, thumb shifting to run over the back of Hal’s hand and he hears the quiet _hitch_ of Hal’s breath, the way his fingers tighten around his in response. He steels himself before flicking his eyes back up to Hal’s face, swallowing against his dry throat before attempting to speak.

     “Hey.”

     Hal’s lips curl in a tentative ( _hopeful?_ ) looking smile. “Hey.”

     Barry smiles in return, right hand slipping down Hal’s side, his thumb brushing over one of the knobs on Hal’s spine. Hal’s not pulling away, not looking at him strangely or telling him to back off, and Barry can’t help but smile _wider_ at this revelation.

     “How’re you—” he _coughs_ once, trying to clear his throat “— how’re you feeling?”

     He can see Hal’s hips inch closer to him and he presses lightly against Hal’s back in encouragement. Hal lets out a _snort_ , left hand reaching to brush at a strand of blond hair that was tickling Barry’s face. Barry’s breath hitches in his throat, fingers digging into Hal’s back— _god_ , it’s like all of his inhibitions are suddenly _gone_ , the feeling of Hal’s bare skin against his hand making small tremors shoot up his arm, nerves tingling from how _good_ he feels.

     “I’m not the one who almost _died_.”

     His tone seems light but Barry can see the tension around his eyes, the grim line of his mouth as he says the words. Hal’s hand slides from Barry’s hair down to his shoulder, coming to rest over his heart. Brown eyes slip closed as Hal lets out an uneven breath, shoulders slumping from the weight of those last few moments before they were rescued.

     “Hey—” Barry keeps his voice soft and soothing, fingers trailing up and down Hal’s spine “— I’m still here. You saved me.”

     Hal’s eyes blink open, fingers sliding up Barry’s chest to curl around his neck, a small smirk forming on his face. “ _Hmm_ , you’re right. What is that, now? Six to five?”

     Barry pinches his skin with mock offense, smiling as Hal laughs ( _he has such a nice laugh– he’s always thought so_ ) before smoothing over the area with his fingers, tugging Hal a little bit closer.

     “I think this whole _adventure_ probably counts as three or four.” Hal shifts his head closer on the pillow so that they’re only a few inches apart, breath intermingling between them in a way that makes something in Barry’s stomach _clench_. “I, uh, don’t think I got the chance to say thank you.”

     Hal’s smirk morphs into something more genuine, eyes crinkling around the edges as his thumb brushes along Barry’s collarbone. “You didn’t have to.”

     Barry’s fingers tighten around Hal’s own at the same time Hal’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. Blue eyes fixate on the motion, eyelids drooping as he unconsciously mirrors the gesture. Hal has some _seriously_ nice lips– very.. very _kissable_..

     “Barry.”

     He has to make an effort to force his eyes from Hal’s lips, blinking up at the pilot’s face as Hal’s hand shifts to cup his cheek. “ _Hmm?_ ”

     “I think the two of us might be _idiots_.”

     Hal shifts even _closer_ , lips barely an inch away from his own and Barry tugs on Hal’s waist impatiently. _Yes– god, he’s waited long enough. They both have._

     “You may be ri— _mmfh–_ ”

     A wave of warmth washes over him, small gasp caught in his throat as Hal's lips press against his almost _tentatively_ , like he's afraid that Barry will change his mind and pull away— but _god,_ Barry couldn't stop this even if he _wanted_ to. Everything about this just feels.. inevitable, like they were always headed for this, ever since Hal had peeled off his mask and told him his name, mouth curled in an easy smile that had taken his breath away. His hand slides up to curl around the back of Hal's head, jaw tilting to the right as he slips his tongue between Hal's lips, the warm heat of Hal's mouth the _best_ thing he's ever felt. Hal lets out a quiet groan, pulling back with a wet sound and pushing himself off the bed, giving Barry a look filled with wonder and _heat_ as he slips his leg over Barry's stomach to straddle him before capturing his lips in a rough kiss, pressing him into the bed and twisting their fingers together against the sheets.

 _God_ , he should have known that once he kissed Hal he would never want anyone else, that the feel of Hal bracketing his body, nose bumping against nose as their lips move together would completely _ruin_ every other person for him, because _no one else_ could make his heart beat this quickly, could make his chest swell with so much emotion– could make him this _happy_. One hand slips back into Hal's hair, the other curling around his back and tugging him close as Hal practically devours his mouth, the pilot moaning in appreciation as Barry rubs at the base of his skull. Barry's fingers slip under the waistband of Hal's sweatpants of their own volition and Hal _swears_ , mouthing down the side of Barry's jaw with sloppy, wet kisses. Hal pauses to nip at the sensitive spot under Barry's ear ( _how did he know? Jesus christ_ ) _,_ voice rough and needy as he whispers in his ear.

     “ _God_ , Bar– I want you so bad,” he presses another kiss to the sensitive skin and continues his path down to the opening of Barry's shirt, licking at his collarbone with _wicked_ intent. Barry's hips jerk upward with a quiet moan, fingers digging into the muscles of Hal's lower back and Hal slides his hand under the hem of Barry's shirt, fingers trailing over soft blond hairs as he brushes over the blue elastic with a teasing touch. Barry gasps, legs automatically spreading wider to give Hal more access as he tugs Hal closer—

     — they both _hiss_ with pain at the same time, something in Barry's thigh burning painfully as Hal clutches at his ribs with a grimace _._ He pries his eyes open, running an assessing hand down Hal’s side with a light drag of his fingertips, still reveling in the knowledge that this is _okay_ now, that he’s allowed to touch. He clears his throat a little bit awkwardly.

     “Um– _sorry._ You okay?”

     Hal lets out a loud _whine_ and plants his face into the pillow by Barry’s head, hand sliding further up Barry’s chest to rest somewhere above his pounding heart. Barry reaches up to tug at Hal’s hair until Hal flops his head to the side, lips pursed in a familiar pout that makes Barry smile and trail a finger over the downward tilt of his mouth, pushing at the corner until Hal’s smiling too. He scoots a little closer on the bed, wrapping an arm around Hal’s back and tugging him forward so he can kiss him again, a soft, gentle glide of lips over lips that makes his breath catch in his throat, makes him almost _giddy_ with the realization that Hal's _letting_ him kiss him– is actively encouraging it, in fact. He's almost glad that he almost died, if the result is _this_ – Hal pressed against him like he belongs there, hip bone bumping against his own, fingers digging into his lower back as he tries to get closer. Hal tilts his jaw with a pleased _hum_ , trying to deepen the kiss when Barry interrupts him with a jaw-cracking _yawn_ , followed by an embarrassed _groan_.

     “Sorry.” He buries his face in Hal's neck to hide the flush on his cheeks, blinking his eyes against Hal's warm skin as Hal’s quiet laugh sends a pleasant vibration through his chest. Hal’s hand drags down the middle of his back in a gentle, affectionate sort of touch that makes his whole body feel warm, makes him rub his nose against Hal’s skin with a sleepy, content _sigh_. _God_ – Hal’s body feels _so good_ against his— after _months_ of wanting to– to be this close to Hal, to be able to do more than just lean into Hal’s arm thrown over his shoulder while desperately wanting more– it’s the most satisfying thing he’s ever felt.

     “Get some sleep, Bar. I don’t think my ego could take it if you fell asleep mid-bang.”

     His face grows even _hotter_ and he shifts his hips a little, very resolutely _not_ thinking about Hal and him in any sort of– _compromising_ situation.

     “That’s—” he _yawns_ again, reaching for a blanket and dragging it up and over their bodies with a tired motion, exhaustion overcoming embarrassment as he shifts a little bit closer to Hal’s warm body “— that’s.. surprisingly self-aware of you.”

     Hal lets out a loud _huff_ , tugging the blanket up and over Barry’s shoulder before slipping his arm back down to press against his lower back, ensuring that they’re pressed against each other as thoroughly as possible.

     “Yeah, well– it’s that kinda day.”

     Hal’s chin settles on top of his head, the steady _hum_ of medbay equipment making his eyes droop, thoughts feel sluggish. Still, he feels like– like he should say something, like they should maybe talk about this, make sure they’re on the same page here—

     “Stop thinking. _Sleep—_ ” Hal’s lips press to the top of his head for a brief moment, nose rubbing against the soft blond hairs and Barry lets his eyes slip closed, focusing on the steady _thump_ of Hal’s heart as his muscles relax one by one.

     “— _we got time_.”

     His last thought before sleep claims him is that– _yeah— they have all the time in the world._


End file.
